23rd day of Spring, year 203
Maiden’s Drink
The spring market is abuzz with excited energy. Vendors are setting up their booths, displaying exotic wares brought in by ships, along with an assortment of locally made goods.
There is one belonging to Astarael’s parents, and today her mother has taken her out to run errands and check on the stall, staffed by some employees. Leda Belree is busy chatting about something boring. Some new displays, how to properly wear the merchandise, something like that… leaving six year old Astarael a rare moment alone.
She’s tracing her finger around the circular design cleverly stitched into the fabric that forms a shawl, hanging on display at the edge of the tent, the fine silver thread glinting in the sun. She’s humming a song to herself, lost in her own thoughts, when she’s suddenly knocked down.
Astarael is stunned for a moment. Her face stings where it scraped the ground. She begins to reach up to touch it, but instead she blinks and accepts the hand being offered to help her up.
It belongs to another child, a girl clearly a year or so younger than herself. The girl speaks. “Oh! Sorry! We’re playing tag—hey, join us! Come on!”
Still holding her hand, Astarael is dragged into the narrow alley formed behind the line of booths, the pain of her face forgotten in the excitement of being asked to play a game.
They dash off together down the road, giggling the whole way. Her mother’s instructions to stay nearby totally forgotten.
It’s not too far before they reach the square. Here the crowd is thinned out. Most adults are clustered near the booths at the perimeter, leaving a nice clear area in the center for children’s games. Astarael and the girl find several other kids there, and another older boy arrives soon after. He reaches out and taps the girl on the shoulder, shouting, “Got you! You’re it, Nam! Hey wait, who’s this?” Astarael turns around, giddy from their run.
“Hi! I’m Astarael!”
The boy’s face changes from one of curiosity to something more serious.
“Oh. You’re that Belree girl. I’m sorry, but you can’t play with us.”
Nam looks upset. “What, why not, Revve?! Why can’t she?!”
“Mama said we’re to stay away from her. Sorry Nam.”
Astarael’s smile quickly fades from her face. Nam drops her hand, and she and the other children begin to move away from Astarael.
“Wait, why can’t I play with you? Why do you have to stay away from me? I don’t get…?” Astarael tries to follow along with them, as they leave. The boy, Revve, turns around and gives her a shove.
“Stay away. Mama says you’re unlucky. Cursed. If we play with you, we might get cursed too. Go home.”
Astarael tumbles to the ground, for the second time today. Angry, she gets up, and runs at the boy, pushing with all of her might into his back.
“I’m not unlucky! You take that back!” Tears are streaming from her eyes now, streaking through the dirt and a bit of blood from the scrape on her cheek.
He turns and pushes her away again, his voice raised. “I SAID GO HOME.”
She stumbles backwards, and is caught by two much stronger hands. She suddenly becomes aware of the silence around her. The crowd, deafening a moment before, has fallen still, many eyes focused upon the commotion she was causing. In the quiet, the whispering of the breeze is more noticeable, the chorus of voices urgent and almost angry sounding. Astarael looks up, and sees the stern face of her mother, her mouth a fine line belaying her own fury.
“ASTARAEL. I told you to stay near me. Why did you wander off?”
“The girl said I could play with them, Mother. I just wanted to play with the kids.”
Leda Belree take’s a firm grip on her daughter’s hand, and begins leading her on the long walk back up the center of the road, towards home.
“I’m sorry Astarael, but you know that’s not allowed. It’s too dangerous. And look at how messy you are now. If you can’t behave, you won’t get to come on errands with me anymore.”
“I’m sorry Mother.”
They walk in silence up the hill. The excitement past, many folks begin to return to their business, but Leda notices that many of the locals part to let them through, giving her and her daughter wide berth.
Astarael’s vision is blurred by the tears in her eyes, and she does her best to focus on not tripping over the uneven cobblestones before her.
“Mother, what does cursed mean?”
It takes all of Leda’s resolve to maintain her composure and hold back some tears of her own. She quickens her pace, pulling the small child along.
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